Yggdrasil
by MS-Manuscript
Summary: Blood dripped from his nose, his skin was translucent, and his sanity torn by the waves of life the tree had pumped through him. For none had gazed upon the ash tree Yggdrasil and survived. But Loki had, and was unwell.
1. The Fall

I do not own "Avengers." Or "Thor." This chapter takes place just after Thor, and just before Avengers. There are some spoilers for the Avengers.

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When Loki fell, it was his magic alone that saved him. Down, down, down, through the cosmos both known and unknown did he tumble, falling endlessly downwards though truly no direction can be gained when there is little difference between ground and sky. As he fell Loki felt his mind slipping from him, his logic and intellect leaving him as he passed Vanaheim and closer to Midgard and bringing him into naught but his emotions.

And it was there that he forgot his teachings and his upbringings, and thought only on the treatment he had received. He had been taken in, without question, as Odin's son. He had been raised as Thor's brother. He had been loved by Frigga, whom he still called mother. He had been trained in the arts of magic and war, and learned on his own the gift of a quick tongue and quicker mind. And he recalled the slights on his name that had been thrown.

He remembered the day he was given title of Captain of the Guard. A lofty title indeed, had it not been out of spite. Thor was to be Captain. He was a better warrior, strong and agile in battle, and commanding the hearts of the men of Asgard already at such a young age. But Odin had proclaimed loudly to all that would hear that Thor was to be taught the ways of kingship, and forgot the title of Captain of the Guard. Thor was angry at first, until it was explained to him that he would not be Captain, but a commander even over the highest of generals. He was the first born prince, and no lowly title of captain would suit him. No, he didn't have time to oversee the guards that kept Asgard safe. He had to learn how to be a king.

So the title was cast off Thor's shoulders, and given to his brother Loki. It wasn't worth Thor's time, and so it fell to the next in line. Loki did his best. He kept his guards from falling slack, kept their honor so they might not shame the great name of Asgard, and did his best to prove to his father that he could be a good son.

And then the Frost Giants came. And while Loki was the one to show them how to get in, he had thought on how it would reflect upon him when his guards could not protect their land. And in trying to gain his father's favor, had lost it when Odin thought Loki to be slacking on his duty as Captain of the Guard. He allowed Loki to keep his horned helmet, his uniform of black and gold and green. But the disappointment was evident. And it had stung, even though it was originally part of the plan. To lose favor, and then to gain it back tenfold when HE was the one to save Odin and Asgard.

But he could not forget the disappointment, and had not thought of what it really had meant to Odin that his adopted son had failed him. An easy task; guard the realm. And Odin thought Loki so lowly that he couldn't accomplish even this. Loki had expected shame on his guards, not on himself wholly. But there it was. His guards, the men under his command with their own horned helmets and garb of black and gold and green received no thought or concern as to their own failure. It was Loki who was given that honor alone. And no amount of work could ever have given it back, for it was at the bridge that Loki discovered that there was never any honor to his name.

Odin had denied him. Not what he was, not what he stood for, not what he tried to do. But him. He denied that Loki could achieve any love or grace. That he could have ever made his father proud. _I could have done it father!_ And in answer was a resounding _No_. He could have done it. Made his father proud, gained his father's favor, earned the love that he sought after. Could have gained the title of Captain of the Guard rather than simply picking up a cast off covering that Thor had once (almost) held, a hand-me-down with the thought that it was an unworthy title for any son of Odin.

And as he fell past Midgard, and landed, finally, at the roots of Yggdrasil, Loki felt his mind go blank and the shame of his fall left his thoughts. And he sat between the roots of Hel and Jotunheim, and gazed into the empty void that had once held the realm of the Frost Giants. His home land, though he knew the world not. Asgard had been home, but he had been cast out long before Thor had been banished. He was a creature of no world now. Jotunheim was gone, destroyed by his own hand. And he had not been welcome there. He was a runt, even in his Jotun skin, and a traitor to his blood. And he was not a child of Asgard, despite his shape shifting abilities that made it appear as though he was. He did not belong there, not now, not ever. A creature without any proper place. Perhaps Hel, his daughter, could take him into her halls. He was surprised, really, that he wasn't there already.

He was dead, was he not? None could fall from the Bifrost and survive the decent into the void. But here he was, sitting on the very roots of Yggdrasil, and gazing at the realm of his Hel. And at the shattered world of his birth. And he found himself alive.

His born curiosity gave way, and he gazed up, and up, and up, at the trunk and boughs of the Great Ash, and with it his mind left him.

And thus is how the Chitauri found him. Gazing up at Yggdrasil, alive. For none of their kind had gazed upon the tree and survived. But Loki was unwell. His gaze had been held fast by the tree for too long, and his mind had been taken from him. Blood dripped from his nose, his skin was translucent, and his sanity torn by the waves of life the tree had pumped through him.

And so the Chitauri seized his shattered self, and fed the liesmith their need for a realm of their own, and tied their own desires into his need for acceptance. And after eight Midgardian months of gazing at the vastness of Yggdrasil, Loki was easy to bend into any frame one desired.


	2. Yggdrasil the All Seeing

I do not own Thor or Avengers.

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Yggdrasil was a tree of life and death. THE tree, of life and death. For without it none would live and without it none would die for without the ash tree none would exist. High at its crown it is being eaten alive even as it grows. And far below its roots it rots even as it feeds, and all about it, the great tree cages life and death within its grip.

And Loki sees this. As he gazes into the tree he is washed over with emotion. And vision.

For the past, the present, and the several futures yet to come are fed from the tree's soul and into his own. He sees every life through their own eyes, and every life through the eyes of others.

He can see his long cow's tongue licking at the salted rocks while children stir within the living ice. He sees Bur, and continues to lick at the ice while he forms his existence. He sees the cow Audhumbla, and his own child Odin. He gazes up at Bur, his father, and at Ymir, and knows what he must do.

He watches himself slay the father of all frost giants. He watches himself be slain by the grandson of the father of all Aesir. He watches the bloodshed from on high, the wind below his wings as the worlds are created.

Without a second's pause, without a break between, Loki is subjected to every second of every consciousness that ever existed, exists, or will exist, all at once, overlapping and stumbling over each other to be watched at the same time. And a great ache erupts behind his eyes, between his ears, and blood pours from his nose. And he watches.

He watches as the woman grinds the grain into flour for bread. He watches out of the corner of his eye as the hunter skins the deer while he grinds the grain his son grew. He watches his parents prepare their meal as he heads out into the field to harvest more wheat.

He sees a young boy; golden hair flying in the sun as the wind kicks up, aiding the ravens that are under his command. He sees his father; tall and proud as the breeze pushes the yellow hair into his eyes, making it hard to see the black birds. He is above the pair; father and son, borne aloft by the gentle air of Asgard. He watches blood flow through the ice as Midgard is overrun with frost. He watches himself take the eye of Odin. He watches as he takes the life of the giant that takes his eye.

He gazes upon the face of a newborn, whose skin is as blue as his father's. He grins up at the haggard face of the king who adopts him.

He dares not blink while the elk has its back turned, hidden only partially by the tall grass. He turns and watches the spear enter his great tan flank, the hunter he hadn't noticed taking his life from him. He gazes up at the God of Thunder, marveling at the strength and beauty of such a being. He grins down at the mortal who is awestruck by his prowess as he summons lightning to his hand.

He is aboard a ship, tied by chains at his wrists and ankles, night-black skin tearing and bleeding as he tries to get away from the dead eyes of his neighbor that stare into his own. He is laughing at the plight of the slaves that he is charged with watching over, their struggle proving that they are naught more than animals for the taking. He is huddled in a thin cloth he loathes to call a blanket, watching his general give the command to cross the river. He watches his solders freeze and die as they follow his order.

He watches a man he thought to be his brother hang by his fingertips from the sacred spear, green cape billowing from the force of the Bifrost and the eternal waters. He watches his idol cling to him, begging him to not let go. He watches his sons, both by blood and by bond, fighting to survive their self-made atrocities. He watches Volstagg boast and brag at a feast not long after the closing of the bridge. He watches his son Thor leave the feast as Lady Sif joins him in watching Thor leave. He watches Frigga as she explains how much Thor misses his lady and his brother. He watches as he brings Loki's name to the table and is met with gazes of sadness. He watches as Thor mourns his brother, but he himself feels nothing. He watches as Thor leaves, and Fandral turns to him and expresses how little he mourns.

He watches his fingers remove a glowing pod from the chest of his boss and crush. He watches as her fingers pull his life from the capsule he had installed into his own body. He watches as the scientists pump his veins full of toxins that will make him stronger. He watches as the sarcophagus closes around the skimpy, but honest, lad into their test.

He watches his mother pick him up from his crib. He watches his son yawn and grip his offered finger. He watches his wife and babe nestle into each other as he prepares for work. He watches the new intern exit the elevator just outside his cubical. He watches the predatory woman leave her grey stall and corner the new kid. He watches damning photos of his husband kissing another woman. He watches the world fall apart around the new mother.

He watches, and watches, and watches, and sees every realm and what is going on. And Loki realizes that on top of all his visions of every life that was ever cradled in Yggdrasil's twigs, he is seeing through Heimdall's far reaching eyes, watching himself watch himself watching himself. And he begins to see paths unfold before him. With every choice someone makes, a new future is born. The intern skips coffee that morning and never meets the woman that lead him to forgo fidelity. The intern gains his coffee, meets the woman, but his wife doesn't mind. The three of them raise a child with their mixed love. His wife hates the woman, and murders her husband with her own bare hands.

With his hands. He watches himself try to scrub the stain of his beloved's blood from his fingers. And knows he will never succeed.

And then he sees the wonderment of wonderments. There, at the meeting of two of the roots of Yggdrasil, is a creature he had never seen before. Pale, a mix of blue and white. Hair stark black, and long. Blood running red down his face, dripping from his chin to fall on tattered black and gold and green armor. He watches himself reach out a hand and shake the shoulder of the creature.

And Loki is torn, far too early, from Yggdrasil's grasp. His mind ripped from the connection with her, one the tree had not yet been ready to let go of. His eyes, flicking from raging emerald to pale bluegreen as the magic left them, beheld the disgusting creature that had removed his soul from Yggdrasil before it was ready. And then he saw no more.

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_**After publishing edit**: Small note here. This chapter flips who is talking from line to line. Though it is all Loki's point of view, he becomes confused as to what, and who, he is seeing. He is seeing every line I write, all at the exact same time. So while he is watching through one set of eyes, he's seeing the same scene through another pair, and watching a totally different scene at a totally different time from totally different people's eyes, overlapping at the exact same time._

_So if at any point you get confused as to who is who's brother/sister/father/son, it's because Loki is too._


	3. Listening

Guys. Guys, I'm seriously tearing up over here. Thank you so much! Over 600 hits and over 400 visitors in just under two days to my little fic! You have no idea how much that means to me. Okay, sappy writer aside. I don't own Thor or Avengers.

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Loki was in captivity. Well, sort of. He was in the back of a flying machine, which might as well be captivity. They were all nervous, ready to pounce should he decide to attack and escape. Really, there was no need. Loki could have vanished without a trace even before the man of metal buzzed from the sky and claimed him as their prisoner. Even now, so high above the ground, it wouldn't have been much of a trick to slip from their grasp. But he didn't want to. No. Not when they held the key. The key the Chitauri needed. He had seen so much, knew so much. No, he needed them to have him as their prisoner. That was, until, lightning struck.

"What's the matter? Scared of a little lightning?"

"I'm not overly fond of what follows."

For although Thor was the god of _thunder,_ such a sound could not exist without lightning. And all knew that he had control over the element. Well, all who had been on earth when they were proclaimed gods. And all in Asgard as well. But this wasn't a Norse time forgotten. This wasn't Asgard. This was Midgard, Earth, in a time of _now_, and they had gods of their own. And while it was true that storms could arise without prompting, it was not the light or the sound that frightened him. It was Thor himself, and he didn't frighten him. He annoyed him, loathed him, "not overly fond" was just a polite way of putting it. So when lightning struck, and thunder boomed, and Thor made his appearance in the heart of the transport, there was little anyone could do. It didn't take much for Thor to gain possession of Loki, and although it wasn't in his plan for Thor to be there, it would make life so much easier. Because now that he was here, he could kill Thor while taking over Midgard.

Two birds.

One, _massive_, stone.

The banter was familiar on his end, really. Sarcastic claims of missing a brother that he honestly couldn't remember having the _time_ to miss. And his brother getting straight to the point, as always. Thor would make a good king one day; he dallied not on matters of little importance. But that would also make him a poor king. Loki knew that being too forward could get one killed, or start a war. Yes, start a war. What a lovely idea.

"I thought you dead." Lies. You can't lie to a trickster, Thor should know that by now. But, in a way, Thor did believe it. Perhaps it wasn't a whole lie. Just enough of one to raise ire in Loki's blood.

"Did you mourn?" Loki isn't sure where the question came from. Not really. He knew the answer to that; he had seen them, after his fall. Their feasting, their laughing, their bragging. Not a second was spent to mourn his loss. The saddened eyes Thor saw were not because of Loki's death, but because they wished Thor would not mourn the monster. He had seen this and more with his own eyes. The Ash Tree had shown him.

"Our father-"

"_Your_, father." This made Thor stop, made him calm. "He did tell you my true parentage, did he not?" Loki took measured steps away from Thor, clasping his back. It hurt, being thrown through the air, into the ground. The words left him not in spite, not in anger. In resignation. He knew what he was; he couldn't deny it any longer. He knew that Thor knew. He knew the answer to everything now. He had seen it with his own eyes. But he was playing the game. The game to guilt Thor into bending to his will. Because that's what he did. He was Loki, god of mischief, and chaos, and lies. He had a part to play, an act to keep up, despite knowing what was going to be said, despite being in control of the situation. There were words that had to be said, steps that had to be danced. He was Loki, and this is what people expected of him.

"We were raised together." Loki didn't even pause. He had heard this speech in his dreams, in his visions from Yggdrasil, in his hopes. But he knew where it would lead. "We played together we _fought_ together. Do you remember none of that?" Thor's anger was rising.

Yes. Yes Loki remembered. And he remembered that hardly a sentence would leave Thor's lips without the word "brother" being thrown in and yet here they were, bickering, and it never came to light. Not that it would be welcome. Not anymore. Yes, he remembered his days when he was young.

"I remember a shadow." And more. So much more than just living in a shadow. But perhaps, if he started small, Thor could start to understand. "Living in the shade of your _greatness_. I remember you tossing me into an abyss; I who was, and _should_ be king."

But that was a lie, wasn't it? Yes, and Loki wanted to see what Thor thought of it. He wanted to know exactly what Thor _remembered_ and how much he wanted his _honor_ to remain. He never wanted to be king. He had told Thor that, in a moment of honesty. So now, now he wanted to know what Thor though to be truth, and what to be lies. And Thor failed this test.

"So you take the world I _love_ as recompense for your imagined slights." _**IMAGINED**_ slights? How _dare_ he, how _**DARE**_ he! Forcing such a _statement_ without even the thought to form it into a question. He _knew_ that Loki's "slights" were "imagined" did he? No, no this was the greatest lie of them all. And it wasn't told by the god of lying, it was told by the father of all. Odin had placed this worm into Thor's brain, and had rotted it.

There were no slights imagined, only slights _seen_ and _relived_. They never thought to watch their words around the one to whom words mattered more than life itself. They never thought to watch their gazes to the one whom saw through magic eyes. They never realized, and never would. Does Thor not realize what he is saying? No. No, the buffoon never would.

"No. The Earth is under my protection Loki."

"HAHAHAHAhaha! And you're doing, a _marvelous_ job with that. The humans _slaughter _each other in _droves_ while you idly threat. I mean to _rule_ them. That's why should I not-"

"You think yourself above them." Another statement, not a question. This threw Loki off. Above them? Of course he was above them.

"Well yes." How could he not? He had the powers of a god. He had magic, and longevity of life, and the vision of the past present and futures that were yet to come. How could he not be above them?

"Then you miss the truth of ruling brother. The throne would suit you ill." Oh, oh _that's_ rich! The magical B word had come out, and Thor wished to persuade not the murderer that was destroying lives and ruling worlds, but the troublemaker that was cutting hair and stealing gems. He wasn't a brother, not anymore. And of all things to tell him, that _he_ missed the truth of ruling? He, Loki, the one that would have ruled not one, but _two_ kingdoms, in peace, had his nemesis not shown up. Thor had been banished because he didn't understand ruling. He had had a _lifetime_ to learn how to be a king, and had failed when he needed it the most. He had so much more to learn. And he had lost his home for it. But Loki, Loki had watched, and learned, without permission. He had soaked in the lessons Thor had forgotten. If anyone knew how to rule, it was Loki.

Loki had no words. He pushed Thor aside, anger bubbling to the surface. Thor had to know, had to learn what Loki had seen, what he had been through. He had learned how to rule by watching them. He had seen the great kings and queens rise and fall, had seen presidents, dictators, commanders, from all walks of life, from all realms, and seen what was good and what was not. He had learned from the greatest, and the worst, in his time with Yggdrasil.

"I've seen worlds you've never known about!" He was almost bellowing now, his anger taking the best of him. "I have grown, _Odin__**son**_, in my exile." He had seen the beginning of the universe. The different endings of it. The billions of billions of lives that had lived it. He had seen _everything_, far more than Thor Odinson would _ever_ dream of seeing.

"I have seen the true power of the Tesseract, and when I wield it-"

"Who showed you this power? Who controls the would-be king?"

"**_I AM A KING_**!" It is just as he had told the humans. They crave being ruled. When no god was presented to them, they made one up. Because they _wanted_ their lives to be controlled by a higher being, because they _wanted_ to worship and praise. They built tall cathedrals to a god that did not exist, waged wars in his name. Millions were murdered, daily, because they wanted to have something control their lives before it became too chaotic. Even those who claimed to want freedom tied their lives to some higher power than themselves. If not some imagined god, then to some ruler who would tell them what to do. A senator, a president, a judge. The humans hated being in control of their own lives. They wanted someone else to have the higher say.

"Not here! You give up the Tesseract you give up this poisonous dream." Thor's emotion was getting the better of him. But there was something there, something Loki didn't expect. Not here? So then Odin had told him more than Loki thought. Odin had told Thor that he was a prince, destined to rule the frost giants. He was a king, even Thor could admit that. Just not here. Not here.

"And come _home."_ Home. Perhaps, perhaps Thor didn't know? Perhaps Thor wished Loki to rule alongside him, in Asgard. For a second, for one gleaming second, insanity left Loki's eyes. And then the vision of his banishment to the cold decimated corpse of Jotunheim rose to Loki's mind, and he knew what Thor was really thinking. And he chuckled, and shook his head, and the insanity of half-seen, barley understood visions returned.

"I don't have it." A loaded phrase. And Thor knew it. He had not the Tesseract, nor a home to return to. And Thor knew he meant as much. But Loki could play with this, and he did. Thor retrieved his hammer, thinking Loki meant Asgard more than the cube. And he did, truthfully. But he wouldn't play that angle at the moment. "You need the cube to bring me home, but I've sent if off I know not where."

"Listen well, brother." There he went, once more, with the brother plea. Did he not understand that it wouldn't work any longer? A flash of light, the grinding of metal on metal, and Thor was gone.

"I'm listening."

The fight was truly one to enjoy. Foolish humans, really. He knew why the man in the metal armor attacked Thor, but he couldn't help but laugh at how stupid he was about it. He didn't want Loki to escape, he didn't want him to get away. And Thor didn't want that either. So they fought, bickered, and raged. All while leaving him high on a cliff, unbound, with the ability to escape. Really, truly, did they not suspect that something was amiss? When they returned to the cliff top, and found him waiting, patiently, for them to lock him away again, did they not think something dark and twisted was going to happen?

Yes, he was listening. And all he heard was air.


End file.
